


it's nice you know, to kiss your beau

by StarSpray



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Mistletoe, Shire Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/pseuds/StarSpray
Summary: Frodo greeted them at the door, his smile bright as the fire on the hearth in the sitting room. Bag End had been transformed for the holiday, with candles and colored lamps (of Dwarven make, of course) nestled everywhere amid sprigs of red-berried holly and green ivy. There was mulled cider and a plate of cheese to nibble on before the meal, and to Angelica’s delight, the Tooks were there already.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for silmladylove's Femslash Lottery on tumblr, for the prompts: Mistletoe, Winter Solstice, Festival of Lights
> 
> title is from the song "Christmas in Killarney"

Angelica examined herself in the mirror—it had been a gift from dear Uncle Bilbo, and she knew very well he’d been teasing her, that everyone thought her a bit vain, but it was a very nice mirror, for all that, and she _had_ been fond of Bilbo, eccentric as he was. And there wasn’t anything wrong with wanting to look pretty, she thought as she set it down, satisfied with the the way her hair ribbons trailed through her curls. The bright red was a nice contrast to her dark hair, and also with the dark green of her dress.

“Angelica, dear, are you ready?” her mother called from the front hall. “We’re going to be late!”

Cousin Frodo was hosting the Yule party this year. Angelica always enjoyed his parties—of course, he always had the most wonderful table, with deliciously foreign dishes in addition to traditional Shire fare, which caused some of the older hobbits to tsk and shake their heads, not that Frodo ever cared. He’d shown Angelica the cookbook, once, that Bilbo had brought back from the Lonely Mountain, knowing that although she wasn’t nearly as interested in the Wide World as he was, she liked pretty things. And it _was_ pretty, beautifully bound in blue leather, with golden clasps, and lovely illustrations to go with each recipe—some even detailed with real gold leaf! If it belonged to Angelica, she thought she’d put it up somewhere to look at, perhaps on the mantle, and never actually use it for fear of spilling something on the pages.

The walk through Hobbiton to the Hill was quite lovely. It had snowed that morning, and the whole Shire looked as though someone had tossed a thick white blanket over it. As the day wound down toward dusk, lights appeared in the windows, candles put there to drive away some of the darkness on the year’s longest night. It made the snow glow golden in patches on the path and in the gardens, and gave the whole town a warm, cozy look. Overhead the stars came out, gleaming like diamonds.

Frodo greeted them at the door, his smile bright as the fire on the hearth in the sitting room. Bag End had been transformed for the holiday, with candles and colored lamps (of Dwarven make, of course) nestled everywhere amid sprigs of red-berried holly and green ivy. There was mulled cider and a plate of cheese to nibble on before the meal, and to Angelica’s delight, the Tooks were there already—or at least, the portion of that large family closest in friendship to Frodo—sipping cider and chatting with the Brandybucks. She saw Merry and Pippin immediately, huddled together in a corner, no doubt plotting something. But she paid them little heed.

Pimpernel Took stood near the hearth beside her mother, positively gleaming in the warm firelight. Everything about her was warm, from the russet color of her long curls to the rosy flush on her cheeks, and the yellow flowers embroidered on her dress. Angelica felt herself blush when their gazes met, and Pimpernel’s cheeks dimpled with her smile. “Hullo, Angelica! Happy Yule!” she said, coming over to press a mug of cider into Angelica’s hands. Angelica’s parents had wandered off toward the kitchen with Frodo, deep in a discussion about the number of potato dishes to be served that evening. “How are you? It seems like so long since we were last in Hobbiton.”

“I’m well,” Angelica said. “And you?”

“Oh, very well, thank you.”

They chatted about the weather (“Such lovely snow!”), and the Tooks’ journey from Tuckborough, and other sensible things for a little while, before a crash from down the hall made Angelica jump and Pimpernel sigh, as the elder hobbits rushed to see what Pippin or Merry had broken. When they heard Frodo start to laugh, they both relaxed a little. Then Pimpernel grabbed Angelica’s hand, as everyone started to come back, and they ducked into the dining room ahead of the crowd. Angelica tripped and nearly knocked them both over, and they ended up getting their balance back beneath a sprig of mistletoe someone had hung near the door. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for an excuse since last summer!” Pimpernel exclaimed, and kissed Angelica soundly. Angelica, to her embarrassment, squeaked in surprise before remembering that she was supposed to kiss back.

“Since last summer?” she repeated, when Pimpernel drew back, looking rather smug. Angelica knew her face had to be as red as her hair ribbons, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

“Well, at _least_ ,” Pimpernel said. “Happy Yule!”

Happy Yule indeed. Angelica kissed her again, and didn’t even mind when Pippin nearly knocked them over when he barreled into the dining room a few minutes later.


End file.
